The End
by Mccorv3
Summary: A one-shot story about when Scully meets her breaking point and the harsh truth is discovered by Mulder.


**A/N: I own nothing of the X-Files, I'm only borrowing them for my own angst filled purposes. I've had bits and pieces of this story in my head for a long time. I have a small collection of one shots that are related to this story but it's missing one thing to bring it all together - a PLOT. I'm not good at government conspiracies or mystery plots. Alas, until that happens... I just have this little angst filled number here. Scully's POV, set before the FTF movie.**

_The End_

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Red.

I see red.

I'm actually seeing red.

Dark, blood red. The blood of my…

I open my eyes, still seeing red, and look through the window of her ICU hospital room. My mother. She's hooked up to countless machines. So many machines pumping, humming, beeping and droning. She looks so small, my mother. She is laying so still, barely breathing. Her face, my mother's face... It doesn't look like my mother, this purple, puffy and distorted figure is not my mother.

Blood.

It was pooled around her when I walked into her house, my mother. There was so much blood... Mulder.

The thought buzzed through my mind so quickly before it was chased away by a much darker one. Death.

I take a trembling breath in an attempt to contain the rage building inside of me. I haven't thought it yet, that horrible truth. I won't think about it now. I can't, not yet. I have to concentrate on Mom. Focus, she has to live.

Blood red.

_Focus, just focus_, I have to remind myself. Bill will be here soon. Focus, listen to her breathing. Breathe.

Mulder.

_Be thankful_, I tell myself. She's breathing. She's strong.

Blood.

Mom is alive.

Hate.

She's hurt but she can recover… mostly.

Mulder.

And he is the one to blame.

As that very thought crosses my mind, I am met with a swell of rage and resentment so deep inside that makes it difficult for me to breathe. I am so… so very… It hurts, this fury I'm feeling. Every fiber of my being is on edge, raw and open.

But he did this to her.

Mulder.

Red.

I can't focus. I am so utterly angry. I'm blinded by red. My mother was surrounded by red.

This little voice inside me, way inside in the back of my head. The voice of logic reasons with me. It says, _No, he couldn't have known. He would never purposely do this. Mulder –_

A primitive growl cuts it off. A piercing scream and logic never had a chance. Emotion, pure raw emotion fills me. I am not thinking anymore. I'm only feeling and I feel… hatred. Red.

My hands are starting to shake. My body quivers. It hurts. She hurts. I hurt. I want someone to suffer. To feel the pain, the maddening frustration, the agonizing hatred, the…

"Scully?"

Mulder.

I don't turn to look at him. I can't. I don't move, don't acknowledge him. I do nothing. I am coiled, ready to strike with this anger that has filled me completely. Tread carefully, Mulder. I see red.

Blood red.

He places a hand on my shoulder, tentatively. To give comfort? Or to get my attention? Either way, it is a mistake. I pull away, shrug my shoulder from his touch.

Go away, Mulder. Go while you still can.

"Scully," he calls again, so softly. "I- I heard what happened... I'm so sorry, Scully."

I want to scream. I think I will.

But I don't. I don't scream because it's not enough. He's sorry. He's always sorry. Sorry won't cut it this time, buddy.

Blood. I want blood.

I turn and glare coldly at him. My tongue will be my razor. I want his blood.

He stares back at me with his soft hazel eyes. He doesn't know it's coming. He doesn't realize the end is coming.

"You," is all I can manage to growl. Words, my weapons, are too jumbled with anger to make much sense. "You. Damn you." There, my point is getting across. Goddamn you, Mulder. Goddamn you to hell.

He only stares at me, slightly confused. I think he can see how much I'm hurting. He takes a step towards me, as if to hold me, his arms reaching up. Damn him, not now.

I knock his arms, his hold, away. First blood. I can see it in his eyes. He is wounded. I find it again, my fire. My mother laying in that hospital bed, barely breathing. My mother, covered in blood. _My mother_.

I hate him.

Oh, my God, I hate him. For what he did to my mother. I never thought I could, not Mulder. He's… I thought…

Never mind. It doesn't matter now. That's done, gone. He's the cause of all of this. Oh, the hate I feel, the anger, the blood throbbing in my head.

And I'm going to make him hurt just as much as I hurt, as my mother hurts.

"You did this to her, you arrogant, selfish bastard," I hiss. My cold blue eyes pinning his.

"I- I didn't know," he stammers. "I went there looking for you… I didn't know-"

I shake my head, dismissing his words. "You led them to her." My voice is low, throaty. "They went there looking for you and found her. You… you… They beat her, goddamn you. They beat her and beat her and beat her until she broke." With each stressed word I see him wince and I am fueled to continue.

My teeth are barred, almost a snarl. "They broke her ribs. They broke her fingers. They punched and kicked her. They shot her. They left her for dead. And it was all for you, Mulder. Goddamn you, you bastard. You did this. You!"

I can see the tears welling in his eyes, the pain, and it isn't enough.

He lowers his head and whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't know they would follow me. I was trying…I couldn't find you, Scully. I was…"

Blood.

"I don't give a fuck what you were doing! It doesn't matter. My mother, MULDER! You almost killed my mother," I bark, biting every word.

I can taste blood. The coppery, bitter taste of blood. A thrill rushes through me.

People are looking. I don't care. I'm beyond caring about anything, anyone, but this. This hurt inside me is raging, tearing at my insides.

"No more," I hiss. "Never again are you going to do this to me, Mulder. My mother, my sister, my children, my career, me…"

An agony I have never seen before surfaces in his eyes as realizes my next words, my thoughts. He knows. I can see the echoes of my pain in him but I want more.

"I never want to see you again. Get away from me. Get far, far away from me, Mulder. You are trouble. You are death. I hate what you've done. I hate you." My last words are utterly soft but true. There is his precious truth.

Mulder takes a staggering step back, unsure of his world. I can understand that. My world has been collapsing for six long years. Each time I followed him blindly, each time I believed in only him, each time I lived solely for his search, I lost a part of me. It disappeared so slowly, I hardly noticed. I lost the goodness, the laughter, the light.

At the core of me there is only pain. Darkness. Hurt and hate.

And now the same is true for him.

He turns away from me, tears streaming down his ashen face. He says nothing. What would someone say to the end, the blood end? Would anything he say matter? I doubt so.

I stand, straight-shouldered and quite, as I watch him walk away, stumbling down the hallway. I feel nothing. Not the hate, not the pain, not the fury. Once he disappears around the corner, there is nothing at the core of me. I am hollow.

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It's dark. Past visiting hours but they let me stay. Bill is here now too. He went to get a cup of coffee.

So, I am alone with her when she opens her eyes. They blink, clouded and confused.

"Mom," I hear myself whisper. Is that my voice? I sound so… so empty.

Her eyes train on my figure in the dark. She opens her dry, cracked lips. "Dana," she moans.

I take hold of her cold, clammy hand. "I'm here, Mom. I'm here."

Her face crumbles. "Danger, Dana."

I know she thinks she's still protecting me. She believes she can still save me. She can't protect me and she can't save me... especially from myself.

"Mom, I'm okay, it's over. I'm safe," I tell her with tears welling in my eyes. It's over. She'll be safe from now on.

Then she says the one thing, the one word that would make me realize it was over. Everything was over. "Fox," she breathes painfully with hope in her tired eyes.

How could she? My own mother. I cannot answer her for fear of breaking her heart. She won't blame him for this. She won't understand how I blamed him for this. I blamed him for this? Yes. Yes, I did.

Her weak grip tightens around my hand and brings me back. She repeats hoarsely, "Fox?"

"It's over, Mom. We're safe now," I tell her mechanically. It's over.

Over. Done. Finished. Concluded. Ended. Completed.

Oh, my God, what have I done?

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**A/N: I know it's not a happy ending but I'm truly a sucker for an angst filled one - sorry readers! Like I said above, I'd like to continue but I need a plot! I have a much happier ending for a larger multiple chapter story. I guess I better get thinking...**


End file.
